


Living Legends

by violethowler



Series: Change the Fates' Design [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Culture Shock, Fish out of Water, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-08 09:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violethowler/pseuds/violethowler
Summary: Fresh off of the Akela Amador case, Phil Coulson's team is refueling at a S.H.I.E.L.D. base in Athens when they get a call about a mysterious energy surge that leads them to a surprising discovery...





	1. Language Barrier

**Author's Note:**

> Bolded text represents words translated from ancient Greek, so that way I don’t have to start whole lines of dialogue with "Patroclus said" or Achilles asked..." or having to keep writing in pauses while the interpreter translates. 
> 
> All dates come from the [Marvel Cinematic Universe Wikia](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/2013).

#### October 4th, 2013

#### Athens, Greece 

Phil Coulson had been a lot of weird situations during his years as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but this one came close to rivaling the lead-up to the Battle of New York for the honor of weirdest mission he'd ever been on, and that time he'd pretty much died. Akela Amador had just been turned over to face a trail for her actions yesterday, and his team had already been called in to investigate a unidentified energy pulse in Greece that had a signature similar to that of the Tesseract. Not an exact match, but close enough for S.H.I.E.L.D. to be concerned. Since his team had handled a similar case with the 0-8-4 in Peru, they’d been called in to investigate.

The fact that this had happened while his team had stopped over in Athens for refueling, and that a second pulse had been detected in the same area less than fifteen minutes later had him on edge by the time that he and the team arrived on the scene. Fitz had traced the source to an alleyway near the waterfront, and by the time their team had arrived, local authorities had surrounded the area.

After the New Mexico incident and the arrival of Norse gods on Earth, Nick Fury had convinced the World Security Council to authorize building a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility on Grecian soil on the off chance that the Greek pantheon turned up later on down the line. Considering that they’d found two men wearing armor that looked almost exactly like the ancient artwork that Skye had been perusing on the plane and looking like they’d just come off a battlefield, Coulson was willing to bet that Fury’s paranoid had paid off.

After everyone had lowered their weapons, Coulson had decided to try and start working around the language barrier by introducing himself. His suspicions that they might be dealing with Greek Mythology now after finally getting used to the Norse were confirmed when the blonde gave his name as Achilles. If Coulson remembered his classics correctly, that would mean the other man was Achilles’ close friend Patroclus, a suspicion that had been confirmed moments later when Patroclus introduced himself.

It had been hard to keep his usual “seen-it-all” expression as he managed to communicate to the two men that he was, for all intents and purposes, offering them hospitality. The team debated possible theories for how and why they were here over the coms during the entire exchange, which did little to help his concentration, so he’d had to turn off his ear piece.

Personally, the rationalist in him wanted to argue that time travel was impossible, and that the more likely explanation was that the two were secretly immortals who had faked their own deaths, but his inner nerd thought that dealing with time travel would be really, really cool.

Whatever the situation was, he’d managed to convince the two to come back to base with them, and he now sat across from the two men at a table in one of the facility’s spare apartments. After Fitz had confirmed that whatever energy signature that brought them to the modern day had vanished, Simmons had called ahead to have the base completely sanitized to avoid exposing their guests to modern pathogens that their immune systems had no ability to fight.

While S.H.I.E.L.D. would want to know what had happened as soon as possible, particularly if more heroes out of classical mythology were going to start popping up out of nowhere like this, Coulson could tell that the two temporally displaced Greek warriors were exhausted. They were sweaty, fatigued, and coated in blood and grime. The least S.H.I.E.L.D. could do was give the two a chance to wash off and rest while they waited on the consultant to arrive. In yet another example of Fury’s infamous paranoia paying off, having the agents stationed in Greece keep a few scholars with knowledge of the ancient Greek language on tab meant that they had a ready-made translator on-call to serve as an interpreter.

Now, the interpreter sat to Coulson's left as they sat down to see if they could start to establish communication. Once the interpreter had explained the arrangement to the two guests, Coulson decided to get the conversation rolling.

“It’s an honor to meet you in person,” he told Achilles. It was true, of course. How many humans living today could say that they got to meet people or beings from ancient history and myth?

 **“You know who I am then,”** the man in question replied. The interpreter took a few moments to finish translating.

“You’re a legend around here,” Coulson answered, planning to ease them into the bombshell of the modern world. “They keep telling stories about you.”

 **“I’d rather have been forgotten,”** Achilles spat. Patroclus took his hand with a look of concern on his face. **“A quiet life growing old with my beloved would have been enough for me, but everyone else just wanted me to fight.”** The use of the word beloved, combined with the obvious affection between the two men, made things clearer for Coulson. _I stand corrected,_ he thought to himself dryly. _And everyone else who ever read the Iliad and thought they were just “really close friends” would be eating crow_ _if they were in here._ But they were starting to get off-track.

“Regardless,” he began. “I was hoping either of you could tell me what you know about how you ended up here.”

Achilles glanced at his companion, his expression quizzical. Patroclus shook his head. _They’re as obviously in sync as FitzSimmons are,_ Coulson observed, holding back a chuckle of amusement. He’d seen enough of how Achilles and Patroclus interacted with each other since the encounter in the alleyway to have a rough idea of how this was going to go. Achilles would likely do most of the talking, but not without running everything by Patroclus first.   

 **“Neither one of us knows how we arrived,”** Achilles answered. **“One moment we were about to meet our deaths on the fields of Troy, the next we woke up where you found us. You have given us your name, but you have not told us where we are or why you have brought us here under armed guard?”**

After the interpreter relayed Achilles’ words, Coulson ran through one last mental rehearsal of the plan he’d hammered out with May for explaining just what kind of situation the two ancient heroes were in.

“Why we brought you here is something that’s difficult to explain with the language barrier,” Coulson explained. “But I can tell you that you’re in Athens.” He figured that he’d get them adjusted to the sudden change in location first before dropping the time travel bomb on then. Achilles snorted derisively over his lover’s protests.

 **“I find that hard to believe,”** the blonde retorted. **“If the Athenians had even half the wonders I’ve seen in this room, there would have been rumors and stories circulating by the time that Greek reinforcements reached Troy.”**

 _I guess we’re going to have to break the news to them the hard way,_ Coulson thought, sharing a meaningful look with the translator.

“There wouldn’t be,” he told the two. “Because the Trojan War ended three thousand years ago.”

The silence that followed was so oppressive that Coulson would have almost preferred one of them to start shouting. The two men had sat in stunned silence for a full minute before Patroclus shook himself out of his stupor and grabbed Achilles’ hand. The two started conversing in hushed tones, whispering quietly in what Coulson assumed was a debate over whether he was telling the truth. He was on the brink of zoning out when to his surprise, the response _didn’t_ come from Achilles.

 **“How can you prove this?”** Patroclus asked. **“How can you prove that we have been transported into the distant future?”**

“I can answer that.”

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice Coulson immediately whirled around with his pistol drawn to find a man standing in the doorway that was very clearly not a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or authorized guest. He wore a standard Greek tunic like the ones Achilles and Patroclus were wearing under their armor. Speaking of which, the two men had practically knocked their chairs over as they kneeled before the new arrival. If the way he could practically feel the air crackle with the power the intruder was radiating, Coulson had a fairly decent guess at what this guy was.

As if Coulson’s day couldn’t get any weirder without an actual Greek god showing up in the middle of the base.


	2. Divine Intervention

#### October 4th, 2013

#### Athens, Greece

Patroclus was already bewildered by the situation he and Achilles had found themselves in even before the god had arrived. Before they had been told that the war they had spent ten years of their lives in had come and gone thousands of years ago.

While waiting for the interpreter to arrive, a man they took to be one of Phil Coulson’s attendants showed them how to use the contraptions in the room. How the switch on the wall generated sunbeams in the glass fixtures on the ceiling. How the small area separated from the rest of that space by a curtain and a thin glass wall could be used to wash their bodies as if they were bathing in a river. How the strange bowl indented into the hard surface below the mirror was used for washing their hands after using the odd white chamber pot. He and Achilles had marveled at everything around them even as each new sight made them wonder just how far from Troy they really were.

Patroclus could imagine how they could end up all the way in Athens. Achilles’ mother had managed to take him all the way to Scyros in the night, after all. But for them to arrive thousands of years after the end of the war? Nothing could have prepared them for a revelation such as that. While the things they saw were still unfamiliar to them, Patroclus was beginning to understand precisely why everything from the things in this building to the way Coulson dressed was so foreign: thousands of years was more than enough time for things to change.

When the god arrived, Patroclus was quick to kneel. While they were unfamiliar with who this god was, Patroclus wasn’t willing to take chances and risk offending him. Achilles was slower, but after what he’d told his lover about the days following the latter’s death, he’d learned his lesson and refused to throw away his second chance for the sake of pride. He kneeled alongside Patroclus, though half a second later.

Coulson’s reason was to turn around and point his weapon at the god. Patroclus could only marvel at their host’s brazenness. He held his breath and clutched Achilles’ hand, fearing that the god would strike them in association with Coulson. But to Patroclus’ surprise, the god simply chuckled with bemusement.  

“While your reflexes are admirable, Agent Coulson, I come in peace,” the god announced. Patroclus’ brow furrowed. _The man gave his name as Phil_ , he thought. _Is Agent simply his title?_

“I was expecting a Greek god to show up sooner or later,” the man in question replied. “Just figured there’d be a more dramatic entrance.” Patroclus narrowed his eyes as their host spoke. There was something different now, but he could not determine exactly what it was.

Suddenly his eyes widened as he realized he could clearly understand what the man was saying.

 “I can understand you!” he exclaimed. Almost immediately, he clapped a hand over his mouth. His shock mirrored in Achilles’ eyes. Though his mind understood what he was saying, the words coming forth from his lips were not the Greek he’d grown up speaking.

“I apologize for the discomfort, gentlemen,” the god remarked, his tone sympathetic. “But I felt that it would be easier to maintain this conversation if all parties involved were speaking the same language. Please, let us continue the discussion without having to worry about the language barrier.”

Their host asked the interpreter to wait outside "just in case" before offering up the extra seat to the god, who waited until Achilles and Patroclus were back in their seats before continuing to speak.  

“I am Aion,” the god introduced himself. “God of eternity.”

“That doesn’t exactly scream time travel to me,” their host commented. Patroclus did not understand what that meant, but he had already resigned himself to the fact that he and Achilles were likely going to be spectators in this discussion. Aion had offered to answer everything that Phil Coulson wished to know about their situation, and so there was no longer a need for him and Achilles to give answers. Achilles had already apologized profusely for how he had acted before letting him fight the Trojans and had barely held himself together as he recounted his behavior after thinking him dead. Patroclus knew that revisiting those memories would have been unpleasant. His beloved had already suffered enough thinking he had died. There was no need to add to his pain by making him relive it for their host’s curiosity.    

“Not exactly, Agent Coulson,” Aion replied. “I am a god of past, present, and future. While Kronos is the god of liner time, my domain is the ages and cycles of time. The kind of time travel you are thinking of is beyond my powers. But sending someone to a different era? That, I can do.”

“That answers one question,” Coulson remarked. “But why these two specifically?”

“I should think that to the prince of Phthia and his beloved, it should be obvious,” the god answered. Patroclus’ mind automatically jumped to Thetis, recalling her schemes to keep him and Achilles apart. He had already suspected she’d had a hand in this, but it appeared it was only half right. Achilles glanced towards him, and the pain and resignation in his lover’s eyes was enough to make him feel horrible even though Achilles was clearly thinking along the same lines.

“My mother sought you out, did she not?” Achilles finally spoke. Aion nodded. “But I don’t understand. She hates Patroclus.”  

“You are correct,” Aion observed. “The day before the Trojans broke into the Greek camp, Thetis came to me and asked that I take Patroclus and send him into the future. She sought to preserve your reputation and legacy and knew that if you had been led to believe the Trojans had stolen your lover away in the night, you would have put your quarrel with Agamemnon aside and return to the field of battle to get him back.”

Achilles bristled in anger at the god’s words, torn between his love for his mother and his anger at her refusal to accept that he was happy with Patroclus. His lover put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that they were still together. That Thetis had not managed to separate them again. Patroclus planted a kiss on Achilles’ cheeks, and his beloved held him closer as they returned their attention to Aion’s explanation.

“I had made my distaste for the bickering among the gods over the fate of Troy and the humans who fought for it clear when the war first began, and I disliked that your mother refused to respect my neutrality. When the gods who sided with Troy came to me with the same request, thinking that if you believed Agamemnon responsible for Patroclus’ disappearance, you would turn on your fellow Aechians and abandon the battlefield in search of your lover, I knew I had to retaliate.”

“When I spoke to the Fates and learned what awaited you both, I chose to do things in a way that fulfilled what had been asked of me while also satisfying none of them. Unlike many of the Olympians, I dislike punishing those who have done nothing to deserve it. You would be removed from the battlefield of Troy, but not before killing several key fighters on their side. You would survive the war as your mother wanted, but she would be denied any further chances to separate you from your companion. The body you found when I took Patroclus was an illusion that lasted long enough for the Greek soldiers to see his body. I apologize for the pain that brought you, but it was necessary. I could not send you both to this era without satisfying the wording of your prophecies.”

“Prophecies?” Coulson interjected.

“When we left for Troy,” Achilles explained, voice hesistant. “My mother told me a prophecy had been issued that I would die if I sailed to Troy, and that Hector’s death would precede my own. Since the men were expecting me to be the one to kill Hector, I avoided the man for as long as I could. But two years ago, we received another prophecy, that the best of the myrmidons would die within two years. I did not think until too late that it would refer to Patroclus.” The man in question entwined his fingers with his lover's and squeezed Achilles' hand in a gentle reminder that he was here.  

“Prince Achilles is correct,” Aion commented. “I was bound to adhere to the letter of the Fates’ design, but by substituting Patroclus with an illusion at the moment the spear that would have killed him was to pierce his flesh, I managed to change the spirit of it. As compensation for my petty vengeance, I sought to give them both a fresh start, unhindered by the prophecies and expectations of their age. Your era, Phil Coulson, seemed the best place for them.”

“You want us to help them,” Coulson answered. It was a statement, not a question.

“I’ve seen the kind of man you are, Agent Coulson,” Aion answered. “You are one of the few that can be trusted to have their best interests at heart as they adjust.” While their host continued to converse with the god, Patroclus turned to Achilles and leaned into his lover, content to simply bask in the fact that they were alive, they were together, and they could have a long, happy life together with no prophecies or expectations of glory over their head. The moment came to an end as Aion called out their names.  

“Enjoy your fresh start together,” he bid them as he stood. “Until we meet again.”

And just like that, the god was gone from the room.

“Well,” Coulson began. “I guess now that my questions have all been answered, the only thing left to ask is what you plan to do now?”

“You heard Aion,” the balding man repeated. “You have a fresh start. No prophecies hanging over your head… No one pressuring you to go to war because of your reputation… You have the complete freedom to decide what you want to do with your life.”

Patroclus sat back against the chair. He was still adjusting to the fact that they no longer had to worry about the prophecy. He couldn’t even imagine what they would do with themselves in a world they didn’t understand. Even in their time on Scyros, they’d never once talked about what they would do after the war. He felt Achilles squeeze his hand and slowly forced himself to relax.

“You expect us to work for you as thanks, then?” he asked.

“No,” Coulson insisted. “While some of my colleagues wouldn’t take no for an answer, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. I’m not interested in boasting about recruiting the legendary Achilles. I’m offering you an opportunity to get yourself acclimated to the modern world in a comfortable environment instead of being thrown into the deep end and scrambling to figure things out. Not strings attached. You’d travel with my team, and we’ll fill you in on the important things you’ve missed the last few thousand years in between our usual work.”

Patroclus did not understand what strings had to do with anything, but he understood what Phil Coulson was saying. There would be nothing expected of them in return for their education on the knowledge they would need to survive in this new world. He didn’t know what to think. He and Achilles had never had the option of planning for the long term. With the prophecy hanging over their heads, they had taken each day as it came to forestall the inevitable as long as possible. But to have the opportunity to plan for a future together? It was so new to him that he didn’t know what to think of the offer before them. Fortunately, his beloved took the lead again and answered for them.

“Can you give us until tomorrow to discuss this? Achilles asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the main explanation for how and why Achilles and Patroclus are in the modern day is out of the way. Aion, him not being involved in the war beforehand, and him being able to move someone to a different time are all drawn from [the Tumblr post](http://drag-queen-jesus.tumblr.com/post/177532245117/ill-probably-never-write-it-because-im-trash) that gave me the inspiration for this crossover. The other parts, such as how he felt about everything and why he sent Achilles too was my own twist on the idea. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was mainly focused on exposition and getting the important explanations done so that I can move on to the meat of this particular and installment: Patrochilles trying to decide whether to accept Coulson's offer of a spot on The Bus and a helping hand in educating themselves about the modern world, or to take their chances on their own and figure everything else out as they go.
> 
> As always, if there's anything I can do to capture characters' personalities/inner voice better, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments.


	3. A Fresh Start

#### October 5th, 2018

#### Athens, Greece

“What do you want to do?” Achilles’ question hung in the air as they lay in bed together beneath the blankets. The soft light of the morning sun slowly lit the room as it roused Patroclus and his lover from slumber. Phil Coulson had left them alone after making his offer, sending one of his underlings by later with dinner to give the two Greeks time to absorb all the information that had been dropped on them during the meeting. It had been a long day for both of them, since they’d gone from the battlefield of Troy to an entire new and confusing environment in such a short period of time. Even during the hours waiting for the interpreter had been spent talking about the things they had said and done following that fateful day.

So, when dusk fell during dinner, they both agreed that Phil Coulson’s offer would be best considered with a clear head unclouded by the fading rush of battle and worry. Which was how morning found Patroclus curled against Achilles’ side. Now that Achilles had asked the question they had both put off asking, Patroclus turned and propped his head up, so he could face his lover directly.

“I do not know,” he finally answered. “You know I will follow wherever you go. What do you think of his offer?”

Achilles shrugged.

“I’ve spent my entire life with the expectations of others hanging over my head,” he said. “Now that there is no prophecy, no expectations of who and what I must be, I find myself lost. But I trust you to decide for us. It does not matter to me what we do or where we are, so long as we are together.”

Patroclus blushed, flattered at the depth of trust Achilles had for him. He had been thinking over their options as they were lying in bed, and while he understood his beloved’s reservations, he felt that there was only one option.

“We should accept the offer,” he said. “I think that the best way to understand how much the world has changed is to travel and see it for ourselves. And if Phil Coulson is sincere about educating us on the history and inventions we have missed, then it will be quicker for us to adjust.”

“I know you do not wish to feel as if you owe anyone,” he added at Achilles’ sour expression. “But if we attempt to learn on our own, I fear we will do something wrong and find ourselves in trouble with no one to assist us.”

“I know,” Achilles whispered as he pulled Patroclus closer and planted a kiss on his lips. “As long as you are certain this is the best choice.”

Patroclus nodded, and as the sun became fully visible through the window, he and Achilles reluctantly disentangled themselves and got out of bed.

Being granted the knowledge to speak a completely knew language did not, they had discovered, mean that they now understood every word that was spoken. They’d had to learn the words to describe all the modern inventions in the room. The agent who had brought them dinner had explained in further detail how to use the shower, along with a variety of what they called “toiletries”. Since they did need to clean themselves, the agent had offered to take their tunics to the “laundry” and have the blood cleaned out.

The shower had been an interesting experience. It felt like washing themselves in the rain, and Achilles had taken to experimenting with the heat of the water with enthusiastic curiosity, though they had wisely heeded the agent’s warnings to keep the soap and “shampoo” away from their eyes.

With a clean body and a solid night of sleep, Patroclus truly began to feel as if this were a new beginning.

A quick check into the hallway confirmed that their tunics had been returned in the night and left outside the door to give them privacy. Once they were dressed, Achilles walked over to the wall and pressed the “button” they’d been told would summon their breakfast, then they sat down to wait for their host.

They did not have to wait long, as agent Coulson arrived alongside their morning meal, carrying an extra plate for himself. The three men ate in silence for a moment before agent Coulson asked if they had come to a decision.

“If we accept your offer now,” Patroclus began. “Do we have the option to change our decision later after we feel we know enough to survive on our own?”

“Of course,” Coulson answered.

“Then for the time being,” Patroclus replied. “We accept your offer.”

With that, agent Coulson reached his hand across the table. Patroclus recognized the gesture as what the man had previous referred to as a “handshake” and extended his own hand. 

“I’ll have my team prepare the extra bunk on the Bus for you,” their host said as he shook their hands. Achilles frowned

“What on earth is a bus?”

* * *

 

A few hours later, Achilles and Patroclus found themselves standing before a strange method of transportation that they had never seen before. The “SUVs” they had been picked up in the day before were easier to understand as they were essentially horseless chariots that could hold more people. This metal monstrosity completely boggled them.

It had a long body like a spear, with large strips jutting out from the side like the fletching of an arrow, but from that metal fletching hung what looked to be metal barrel-like shapes that neither Achilles nor Patroclus could determine the purpose of. A hole in the back of the metallic spear had been opened to reveal what could only be described as a gangplank, with two of the SUVs and what looked to be a small, red, two-passenger version secured on it. Their confusion only grew when they were led aboard and discovered that it had several decks, just like a ship.

Their guides, a man Fitz and a woman named Simmons (Achilles and Patroclus quickly learned that these “agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” were typically addressed by their family names), showed them up to the second deck and directed them to a spare bedroom next to the kitchen. After Achilles had dropped the bag he’d been given to carry his armor and spear in the corner, Coulson asked the two of them to join him in what Patroclus took to be the vessel’s common area.

“Good to see you’re both situated,” the man greeted before gesturing for them to take a seat on what looked like a soft, luxurious chair with pillows but had the length of a long bench. As they took their seats, Coulson pulled what looked to be two coarse belts with bits of metal on the ends from under the pillow of his own chair and connected the two metal pieces together with a _clack_.

“You’re going to want to strap in during takeoff,” Coulson explained, gesturing for Achilles and Patroclus to do the same with their own sets. “Planes move pretty fast so it’s going to get a little bumpy.”

Out the window, Patroclus could see the large sheets inside the metal barrel twirling in a circle around the odd spear-like shape, moving faster and faster. Until his eyes could no longer distinguish between the individual moving parts and simply saw the moving sheets as a single blurry mass. With a shake, the so-called “plane” began to roll forward on its wheels.

Patroclus jerked forward as the plane lurched into motion, barely staying upright as his lover was thrown against him. He immediately understood the purpose of the straps Coulson had shown them to secure themselves to the seat, grateful that he hadn’t been thrown off the chair.

That said, the plane wasn’t moving particularly fast. Chiron likely could outpace them at a gallop. Patroclus was not one prone to biting remarks, but he hoped his raised eyebrow was enough to convey to Coulson that he questioned what the man thought of as slow if _this_ was what he considered “fast”.  

Coulson’s only response was the kind of smug smile that Patroclus had seen before that meant “wait and see”.

As the plane began to pick up speed, Patroclus was forced to admit that maybe it could outpace his former teacher. Then the plane lurched upwards, throwing him and Achilles back back. When they recovered, he looked out the window and felt his jaw drop at the sight before him.

Never had he seen a craft that sailed the sky like a gigantic, man made bird. Now he understood why Coulson referred to the plane as the fasted way to travel: of course, something built to fly would be faster than any chariot or ship. He looked to his right to see how Achilles was reacting, and the pure wonder on his lover’s face was infectious, and Patroclus could not keep himself from grinning as he looked over at Phil Coulson’s satisfied grin.

“Welcome to the 21st Century,” he said.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Patroclus and Achilles are tagging along on Team Coulson's missions and getting an education on the last few thousand years of history, science, and culture in the middle of everything that happens in the first half of Season 1. 
> 
> It took me a few days to reasearch what modern conveniences trace their origins far enough back that Pat and Achilles might at least have some familiarity with them, because I didn't want to have them reacting to something that was around in some form during the period people think the Trojan War happened in (if the stories were indeed based on a specific historical event) as if they had never seen anything like it before. 
> 
> Anyway, the next story in this series is going to be called "Welcoming Committee" and is going to basically be a collection of one-shots focusing on our time displaced couple's education on the things they need to survive in the modern world. (And before anyone asks about them needing forged documents for census/ID/legal purposes, Coulson has already taken care of most of it and will explain it to the two during the next story)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second installment of my Song of Achilles/Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. crossover. This first chapter is mainly to fill the reader in on what Coulson is doing here and lay the groundwork for the conversations that will happen next chapter. Timeline wise, as mentioned in the story, this fic and Alive take place in between the events of Season 1 Episode 4, "Eye Spy" and Episode 5 "The Girl in the Flower Dress". The explanation for how Patrochilles ended up in the present day (and all the way in Athens to boot) will be coming next chapter. 
> 
> This chapter was from Coulson's POV, but it's mainly about Achilles and Patroclus getting hit with the bombshell of just how far from Troy they really are and figuring out how they're going to move forward. The next chapter is going to be from Patroclus' POV, and I'm still undecided about whether or not to have Chapter 3's POV be Achilles or someone from Team Coulson. I was a little nervous about writing from Coulson's POV this chapter, so if you have any feedback to give that will help me write his inner voice better, please let me know in the comments. 
> 
> I didn't bother coming up with a name for the ancient greek language consultant Coulson brings in to serve as an interpreter because they're only there for this chapter and only referenced in the second one. So I didn't think it would be worth it to come up with a name that would only be used for a few sentences.


End file.
